


Far From The Tree

by grav_ity



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-16
Updated: 2011-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-14 19:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/152796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grav_ity/pseuds/grav_ity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I did something terrible once, to a very dear friend of mine. And it nearly ended every good thing in two worlds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Far From The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I’ve been kind of skirting a “talking about Narnia” series for a while now. This was not the one I’d planned to write, but it seems as good a place as any to start.
> 
> Disclaimer: Narnia belongs to CS Lewis.
> 
> Spoilers: The Magician’s Nephew, TL,TW&TW, minor for The Last Battle
> 
> Rating: Kid friendly

**Far From The Tree**

“You seem different.” The Professor had a way of entering a room without anyone noticing. Before, Edmund had found it annoying, as though the old man had nothing better to do than eavesdrop on the hapless war children he’d been forced to house. After Narnia, he saw it in another way.

“I am different,” Edmund said. He turned his head towards the door and followed the Professor’s movement across the room from his seat on the settee. “At least, I hope so.”

“When we had to move to London, I was very much at risk of becoming a different boy myself,” Kirke said. He sat down in the wing-backed chair that faced the window, and stared out at his beloved, if somewhat rain-soaked grounds. “I missed this house and my father, and I was so worried about my mother. My uncle didn’t help matters much. I was a fright.”

“It’s not London for me,” Edmund said. “It’s the school. Peter doesn’t seem to mind, but I – ”

Edmund trailed off and stared into the fire. Susan had started it to ward off the damp chill of the seemingly endless rainy summer. He thought it was strange, after Narnia, and the winter, that any other season could seem endless.

“I did something terrible once,” Kirke said. “To a very dear friend of mine. And it nearly ended every good thing in two worlds.”

“I nearly did it to my sister,” Edmund whispered. “My terrible thing, I mean. Right now, I don’t even remember why.”

“There was a bell and a hammer, and a poem that seeped into my mind.”

“Those are stars in Narnia,” Edmund said. “They hang close together in the winter sky.”

“I know,” the professor said, “I saw them once, when they were new. They reminded me of my folly, my pride and stupidity.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Edmund said, suddenly uncomfortable. The fire snapped loudly, like a lion closing his teeth around empty air as he tried to catch something just beyond his reach.

“I think I do,” Kirke sighed. “Because what I woke nearly destroyed you, and you deserve to know that you are not the only one who fell under her spell.”

“There was no spell,” Edmund said. “I can see that now. It was just me.”

“That’s part of her magic,” Kirke agreed. “While you’re with her, you feel like you can always say you were enchanted afterwards.”

“Tell me, then,” Edmund said. His voice was thick, as though he was choking on Turkish Delight. Mother had sent a package of his favourite kind from London, and he had buried it in the garden. “Please.”

“Her world was dying,” Kirke said. “Dying because she had killed everything in it with a single word. She was asleep when we arrived, waiting for someone weak enough to wake her. Polly, the girl I was with, wouldn’t have done it. She tried to stop me. But I twisted her arm like a bully. It was awful.”

“What was she like?” Edmund said. “Back then, I mean.”

“She was strong, in every world but one, and she was more alive than anything I’d ever seen,” Kirke sighed. “Before I saw Aslan, of course. She was long lived and magical, but she was mortal. Until I brought her to Narnia.”

“You brought her?” Edmund asked.

“It was an accident,” Kirke said. “If Aslan allows for such things. We meant to return her to her own world. She was weak in the Place Between, I don’t know why, and Polly thought we might overpower her there and force her back into her own place.”

“But it didn’t work.”

“No,” Kirke said. “Instead I loosed her into Narnia. I was afraid of what Aslan would do to me, but all he asked was that I do my best to right my wrong.”

“It didn’t work,” Edmund said.

“Honestly, is there no logic left in the Empire?” Kirke muttered under his breath. He turned to Edmund, and the two locked eyes for the first time since Kirke had come into the room.

“I brought back an apple, one from a very powerful tree that that grew outside of Narnia itself,” Kirke explained. “Since the Witch had eaten from it without permission, the new tree that grew from my apple was so abhorrent to her that she would not come near it. That tree protected Narnia for centuries while the descendents of Helen and Frank ruled there.

“I don’t know what happened to the tree in Narnia,” Kirke continued, “But Aslan gave me an apple after I’d completed my quest, and its core grew into a tree in this world. When it was killed in a storm, I had it made into a wardrobe because I couldn’t bear the thought of using it for mere firewood.”

Edmund did not have to ask where the wardrobe was now, for he knew every inch of it better than he knew his own house.

“And as you know, that tree was your own gateway,” Kirke concluded. “And you finished off the Witch more thoroughly than I could ever hope to.”

“Aslan did that,” Edmund said.

“But you rejected her, Edmund,” the professor said. “She tempted you, and you found the strength to turn away from her. I know what that is like.”

“Sometimes I think I am forgetting it,” Edmund said. “My time in Narnia, I mean. Sometimes I can’t remember the name of the centaur who taught me etiquette, or the lady who sewed Lucy’s dresses the year she grew three times.”

“That is why no one is ever called to Narnia alone, I imagine,” Kirke said. “Polly and I, though we rarely see one another, write to one another often about it. You are luckier than I in that regard.”

“So I may speak to you again?” Edmund felt lighter, like a heavy weight had been lifted from his chest. On the edge of his hearing, a lion roared.

“Of course,” Kirke said. “And I shall introduce you to Polly. I think she would like you four quite a bit. She still lives in London, so when you go back you will see her more easily than me.”

Edmund smiled, for he knew that Peter and the girls would welcome any additions to their talks about Narnia. Outside, the rain had trailed off and the sun was beginning to break through the clouds.

“Why do you think it was us?” Edmund said. “That Aslan sent for, I mean. I know of many other families that have two boys and two girls.”

“Aslan calls for all of us, Edmund,” Digory said. “You listened.”

In the years that followed, Edmund puzzled over those words more than any of his lessons at school or sermons at church. Just before the trains collided, he understood.

+++

 **fin**

**Author's Note:**

> Gravity_Not_Included, January 11, 2011


End file.
